Take Me Out
by SpyKid18
Summary: Spike would never take the Slayer drinking again.  Especially after what she just did to his shoes.  Set in "Life Serial".


**A/N: My take on how Buffy gets home at the end of "Life Serial". **

Take Me Out

Spike would never take the Slayer drinking again-not after what she just did to his shoes. She straightened up, dragging the back of her hand over her mouth while she mumbled an incoherent apology. His shoes were covered in the remnants of Buffy-plus-whiskey and he thought that he didn't need to see this again.

She leaned forward suddenly and he jumped back as he said, "Jesus, Slayer, I thought you drank before."

"This is all your fault," she told the ground, although he had an inkling the words were intended for him.

"My fault, is it?"

"You got me into all of this," she said, straightening up enough to give him an ineffective glare. The Slayer really is off her game, he thought.

"Telling me that I belonged in the dark," she continuing, an accusing finger raised. "Letting me drink all of that whiskey."

"Not my fault that you hogged the bottle, love. And might I add, I paid a lot for you to have your little fun in there. You should be thanking me!"

She snorted. "Not in this lifetime, kiddo. Not…"

He stepped forward quickly and slid an arm around her waist as she leaned heavily to one side. Her eyes squeezed shut.

"I don't feel too well," she said.

"Yeah, I can see that, love. How about we get you home?"

"I'm not done yelling at you," she said.

"I promise to let you finish there," he said, already beginning to move toward his bike. He thought of the assorted Scoobies he would have to face at Revello Drive and added, "Probably even get to watch a few others take their crack at me, too."

They stopped in front of the bike and he looked at the raised seat and then the blonde slumped at his side. "Think you can get up there, pet?" he asked.

"Of course I can." She pulled away from him. "I'm not an _invalid_, you know."

His jaw tightened at her continued stubbornness. For a moment he considered just leaving her there. Let the big powerful Slayer fend for herself. See how well she would handle all the baddies in her state. He dismissed the thoughts almost as quickly as he thought of them. Especially when he watched her futile attempts to climb onto the bike. Her lower half would not cooperate and he stood to the side with mild amusement as she fruitlessly worked to swing her leg over the seat. After he had seen enough, he took a hold of her arm and tugged her back.

"Come on, love, I think we're walking."

"I can do it," she held. "Or just give me a boost."

"Yeah, love, it's not the getting up that I'm worried about. It's the staying up."

"I have fantastic balance."

"Oh right, I saw that with your little spin in place of a punch before. I gotta say, Slayer, your landing was a little sloppy."

She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, poking her index finger into his chest. "You're an ass."

"And you're a bitch. Now we're even. Can we bleedin' get a move on now? You don't exactly live close, you know."

"If it's such an imposition then I will take myself home," Buffy said stoutly, chin held high as she strode forward.

Spike watched her walk away and called out, "You're going the wrong way, love!" He moved after her, taking a hold of her elbow. "And if you think I'm letting you wander off on your own, you've got another thing coming. You're about as helpless now as a kitten."

"Am not."

"Don't make me throw you over my shoulder," he warned.

She stood up straight, setting him with a cool glare as she said, "You wouldn't dare."

"Care to try me, love?"

She turned swiftly on her heel and he reached forward, taking a hold of her waist and easily hoisting her up on his shoulder. She yelled out, kicking and thrashing as he walked down the street. He swatted her bottom as he said, "Pipe down, Slayer."

"Put me down!"

"Would you stop the bloody yelling? You're gonna draw attention to us."

"Oh, because me slung over your shoulder doesn't already do that," she tossed back. "Put. Me. Down."

"You promise to behave?"

"Uh huh."

"To walk in a straight line?"

"Scout's honor."

He knew the last was absolute bollocks, but he set her down anyway. She nodded succinctly, all business, and then said, "On we go."

For the duration of the walk, Spike reached out grabbed her arm each time her gait widened toward the street.

EMP-EMP-EMP

"Think you can make it from here?" Spike asked, standing with Buffy at her front door. She dug in her pocket for a second and them brandished her keys with a triumphant, "Aha!"

"Alright, I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Now, don't forget some water before you go to sleep. Otherwise you'll wake up with a real nasty in the morning."

"Water. Got it."

"Okay, key in the hole. I want to see you go inside."

She made a face but then turned around and unlocked the door. She stumbled inside and Spike heard someone moving from the dining room and then a cultured voice said, "Buffy, what in the world…"

"That's my cue to leave," Spike said under his breath. He turned around and made walk down the path to the street. He sensed someone behind him and looked back casually to see Giles walking toward him.

"I know," Spike drawled, hands raised. "I shouldn't have let her drink. I'm a bad influence. Blah. Blah. Blah."

Giles frowned. "Actually, I was going to say thank you for getting her home safe. But I the rest is true, as well."

Spike didn't expect the small show of gratitude and paused for a moment before saying, "Right, well, you're welcome. The Slayer's no good to me dead, anyway."

"Good night, Spike."

He nodded and offered a stilted wave. "'Night."

**A/N: I would love your feedback.**


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